


Code Plaid

by madasahatter (gaytriangle)



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Supernatural
Genre: 80/20 ship to plot ratio, Alternate universe - canon divergent, Doctor Adam AU, M/M, Mild Gore, Sick Fic, its a surgery yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/madasahatter
Summary: AU. Adam Milligan escapes from hell and fulfills his lifelong dream of becoming a doctor, and even performs his first surgery. One problem: his brothers show up at the hospital.(Knowledge of Greys Anatomy helpful, but not essential - I have a summary of the important bits from that fandom in the notes)
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	Code Plaid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thebicirclegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thebicirclegirl/gifts).



> Greys Anatomy Fandom Notes:
> 
> -Adam is a second year resident here, advanced members of his class perform rare solo surgeries. He specialises in peeds, aka paediatrics - he operates primarily on kids  
> -Arizona Robbins: head of paediatric surgery, Adams direct superior  
> -Casey Parker: intern, reports to Adam
> 
> There is some medical terminology, but honestly, you can ignore it and get the gist. This is a M/Adam fic.

Your first solo surgery is an important milestone in any trainees career. Most rookies performed an appendectomy. Some lucky upstarts did transplants, or amputations, or even (if your attending really, really liked you) the lowest of low risk hernia repairs. 

On April 30th, in Adam Milligan’s second year of residency, a freak unpredictable and unprecedented storm swept through Seattle. Concrete lifted from sidewalks and tore into buildings on its way back down. Street lamps shattered, sending debris in unlikely volumes into the throats of unlucky passersby. The power flickered on and off, supernaturally strong in some areas and drained dry in others. And in one OR room, Adam Milligan stood with a scalpel over the bloodied body of a Jane Doe, fifteen at most. 

Adam paused, feeling the weight of Michaels hand on his shoulders. He was lucky, in a way - time didn’t usually stop for the other residents to panic. “If this is too much, I can step in,” said Michael. The handful of other OR staff - an anaesthesiologist and two nurses - avoided him without realising what they were doing. 

“No,” said Adam, cataloguing the injuries he’d be dealing with. “Arizona said I was ready.”

What Arizona had said, precisely, was that Milligan was a big boy, that the girls injuries were minor except for her leg, and that he had seen her perform enough similar surgeries and amputations to do just fine, so go away and let her do her job. She had said this while hovering a much more severe trauma (severed trachea, half his blood volume lost, and already in heaven, Michael had said, with no trace of emotion). But Adam could infer. 

“Whenever you are ready, Adam,” said Michael, with a steadiness Adam craved. He nodded, and the archangel vanished. “Whenever you’re ready, Doctor Milligan,” said the nurse, with impatience in every line. 

Adam paused for one more second, to be absolutely certain she was under. He wouldn’t wish helplessness and pain on anyone. Then he started cleaning her leg, trying to see if any of it could be saved. She had been found in one of the hotspots where electricity was much higher than normal, caught by shrapnel trying to evacuate civilians. Or, judging by the anti-possession tattoo on her hip, trying to hunt whatever was causing the storm. 

“Why bother?” said Michael, in a tone that could almost be called curious. He and Adam had a deal, where Michael never, ever stepped in unless he was asked explicitly or they were about to lose a patient to something Adam couldn’t possibly have foreseen. He usually didn’t even give an opinion. “That leg is almost certainly dead.”

“Can you see if her leg’s going to heaven now?” Adam bit out. “I have to try. She’s a kid, and a hunter, and I’m not letting her lose a leg if I don’t have to.”

Michael hissed. “You may not have a choice. Shrapnel, tearing through her stomach. You need to move.”

Adam swore. “Towel!” The nurse opened her mouth to ask a question and Adam felt a stab of celestial anger. “Towel!” He roared. One quickly appeared in his hands, and he tied a tight knot above her knee. Stop the bleeding, move to the next problem, rinse, repeat. “Doctor, what are you-“ 

“Shut up!” Adam yelled, and the rest of the world fell silent. All except the beeping of the heart monitor, getting more erratic with every passing second. With a quick prayer, he moved to her stomach. “Shrapnel piercing the walls of the colon. Going to have to resect some of her bowel.”

Michael was at his shoulder. When did that happen? “Suction,” the angel called. “Suction,” the surgeon repeated. “And I’m going to need a strong antibiotic.” 

Retractor, suction, scalpel, Adams movements fell into a steady rhythm. “She didn’t nick an artery. Why is she bleeding so much!”

“Let me see that,” said Michael. He didn’t ask very often. At the beginning, he simply took, and now the two of them were sharing, they swapped whenever they needed to. Asking was rare, so Adam merely blinked. Michael opened his eyes, and hissed out a stream of Enochian. “This shrapnel was not formed by the storm. There was an Anemoi Thuellai involved. She will not stop bleeding on her own.” 

“You can clear that, right?” said Adam, hovering anxiously over Michaels shoulder. His hands were hovering over the bowel, fingers splayed and scalpel forgotten. “Not with subtlety.”

“They’ve gotta look away,” said Adam urgently. “Shut your eyes,” said Michael, in the even voice of Adams dreams. “And do not be afraid,” he added, as his eyes began to glow. Two huge wing shadows burned into the wall behind him, all three other staff flinched, and the Jane Does stomach healed. Utterly. 

Adam pushes forward, clicking his tongue. “I’m going to have to open that up again. Give the post-op team something to look at.” 

“I am sorry,” said Michael, with a grave sense of humour, “that she is simply too healed. I left you her leg to look at, love.” 

Adam sighed, with a tinge of affection to it. “Yes, dear.”

~

Adam was sitting behind the nurses station, sipping a coffee and filling out a report. Jane Doe, newly identified as Reyna Wesson, was talking to a physical therapist about relearning how to use her leg, which she still had due to what the Chief called “the luckiest surgery I’ve seen in a decade, Milligan, so take a break to calm down.” 

He picked up his coffee on reflex when a man slammed his fist on the other end of the counter. “Wesson, goddamnit, Reyna Wesson, the last son of a bitch said she was transferred here.”

Adam put his hand on the shoulder of the intern at the desk before he could call for security. “I’ve got this, Casey,” he said. “I did Wesson’s surgery.”

“Are you sure, Doctor Milligan?” Parker fiddled with the edge of the security button even as Adam pushed past the desk. “Finish your reports and don’t worry about calling anyone”, said Adam, taking in the blood-stained appearance of the pair in front of him. “I can handle my brothers.”

“Adam,” Sam breathed. 

“Reyna is talking to PT right now, but if you can tell me you’re family, I can brief you,” he said, channelling his best Michael. 

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, and Adam squashed his jealousy. “She’s my wife’s niece,” said Sam, after a moment. Adam scoffed.

“She had shrapnel in her leg and gut. Probably would’ve lost the leg if it wasn’t for the wind spirit guts all over the pieces in her stomach - I called in the celestial cavalry. Six weeks of physical therapy and she’ll be fine,” Adam said, staring at a point about ten inches above Sams head. 

“Woah woah woah. Celestial cavalry? And how do you know about the wind spirits? We could’ve used a couple more hunters out there,” fired off Dean. 

Adam threw his eyes up to Heaven, which had absolutely no effect. “Michael helps me. We’re a team in here. He figured out they were wind spirits when he did healing hands on your nieces colon, because she was bleeding out. That’s what I was doing, instead of hunting. Because that’s my job.”

“Adam...” said Sam. “You’re a surgeon now?”

“Yeah.” He bit out. “Year two. Paediatrics. Your little child soldier was my first solo surgery.”

The brothers were silent for a moment. ‘Trying to process’, thought Adam. ‘They’d probably process easier from Hell’, retorted Michael. Adam, as he was rather fond of doing, ignored him. 

“Well,” said Dean, with his trademark tact, “it seems like you did a damn fine job. Should we start sending hunters your way for patch up jobs?” 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Adam said, frostily. 

Sam sighed. “Adam... take a burner, at least. Just in case.”

Adam slid it into his pocket and walked away. “Casey,” he said, just before he walked out of hearing range, “if they’re still there in five minutes, call security.”

**Author's Note:**

> If this does well, I have a bunch of drabbles in the same universe written but unedited :)


End file.
